The Horrors Persist But So Do We
The one in a post-2024 presidential election America.
Hi friends.
I want to start this newsletter off today by saying that if you have found yourself celebrating since the U.S. presidential election was called in the early morning hours this past Wednesday and are excitedly counting down til Inauguration Day, then this letter’s not for you. You might as well unsubscribe, honestly. Today’s letter is for everyone out there who, like me, has felt like they were notified this week that someone they loved had died.
If you think that’s dramatic, well you can stop reading too. Today’s letter is me sharing and working through my shock and disappointment, and I have zero patience right now for anyone who not only supports but encourages and amplifies hate and vitriol, misogyny and racism, and who voted against human decency and the rights of most Americans.
As a natural people-pleaser, it’s usually difficult for me to stay angry, or to stand in my full power and say out loud that I am not happy with someone or something. That what someone (in this case, a lot of someones) chose to do feels wrong and goes against every cell in my being. But not this time. Maybe it’s because I feel responsibility for another little life and future now, or maybe because I’m just straight up sick of people’s bullsh*t obsession with a racist, sexist bully who has spent the last eight years showing us exactly who is and how little he thinks of anyone who isn’t a white man. I am gutted that so many Americans chose to vote for the least qualified (by miles) candidate, largely because he promised them an empty basket of goods. Lies, bolstered by playing into people’s greatest fears and weaknesses, and breathing life into every hateful, prejudiced, racist and sexist thought they have ever had but were afraid to say aloud. It’s sickening.
I spent most of Wednesday crying over the top of my four month old’s head. Heartbroken that some day I’ll have to explain to her that instead of getting the first female president the year she was born, we got another go-round with a man who doesn’t believe she deserves ownership over her own body. Someone who openly and proudly degrades women and has written a permission slip for all men everywhere to do the same. Someone who, along with his supporters, would rather regulate her health and her body and ban books, than regulate or ban guns… even as the latter are the leading cause of death for children in the United States (source). Someone who’s mocked veterans and said unapologetically that people with disabilities are a waste of space. Someone who would consider my best friend’s kids less than because they’re not 100% caucasian. Someone whose male supporters of all ages have talked gleefully about removing women’s ability to vote, who’ve already adopted the cheery slogan “your body, my choice,” and who now seem to think the gates have been opened for them to do and say whatever they want to girls and women because hey, their leader just got elected leader of the free world and he’s been accused by dozens of women of sexual misconduct [I’d link my sources but a.) the videos and tweets are vile and b) I don’t want to give them more air time. Google and I’m sure you’ll find them.] Oh, and who wants to make it even harder for her mother — me, the one with a preexisting, chronic health condition — to get health insurance coverage… again.
And I’m supposed to teach her to love this country? To be proud to call herself an American when clearly, much of the country hates her?
A part of me is embarrassed for how much I believed my fellow Americans would most certainly resist someone so wretched. I tend to believe there is goodness in just about everyone. It’s, admittedly, gotten harder and harder to be an optimist in this world, but I’ve tried. Yet here we are, and I feel almost dumb for having been so hopeful, so sure that the America I knew would never, not in a million years, land us in this nightmare. And for what? Partly because of the cost of eggs and partly because the candidate exploited every dark thought they’ve ever had, whether they realize it or not? Seeing the electoral count tick up Tuesday after I got home from volunteering as a poll worker, I felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under me. Like how could I have been so naive? How did I not realize people were that hateful? That selfish? That they hate women [especially women of color] quite SO much?
If that’s you too, well, you’re not alone. I’m not being hyperbolic in saying that the last time I felt quite this despondent and heartbroken, my mom had just died. In fact, all day Wednesday, that is how I felt — like she had died, all over again. She remains the only person I want to talk to about this, the one I want to tell me everything will be okay, even if it isn’t true. That I (and everyone I love) will be okay. That the sun will rise again.
She can’t, and the truth is, unfortunately, that no one is coming to save us. The people have spoken. I know that sounds grim, but that’s reality. We have to save our selves (ideally, in community). Siri, play “You’re On Your Own Kid.”
Scrolling at some point in the last 48 hours, I read something that said (I’m paraphrasing) it was not stupid to have been hopeful about how this election could have gone, or to have believed in the best of people. Reading that reminded me that yes, hope is still the brave thing. Hope is the honest thing. Hope is the only thing, sometimes, that will get us through.
I don’t have a bright, shiny bow to wrap this all up in or a lesson to leave you with. Instead, I want you to know that if you’re sad, I’m with you. If you feel alone, I’m with you. There are others out there with you, who are reeling from this plot twist and concerned and scared about what the next four years are going to hold for us and our families and friends. I know it’s not a lot to offer, but it’s something. The comment section on this newsletter is always open, and if you know me IRL or follow me on social media, you can always message me anytime. I don’t know how, but we will get through this, and we will do it together. I have to believe, for me and for you and for my daughter’s sakes, that the sun will indeed rise again.
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I don’t have any wisdom to share and time will tell if I’ll deeply regret sharing my anger on the internet, BUT I do have a few resources that you might find helpful in the meantime:
Calm, the meditation app, is currently having a sale. Might be a good time to consider, eh? Also, I personally love the Peloton guided meditations and yoga classes.
Emily in Your Phone’s newsletter. I just became a paid subscriber because I’m in need of a community who’s ready to fight for a country that is honest and decent and kind.
Podcasts like Next Question With Katie Couric, Betches’ American Fever Dream, and We’ve Got Issues (a new listen for me).
Follows on Instagram like Brian Derrick, Jessica Yellin/“News Not Noise,” Sami Sage from Betches Media, and Emily in Your Phone.
And hey! Not too early to consider running for office (local or otherwise) yourself. Run For Something is a great resource for that.
…Sending you all a big hug and a deep, calming breath.
Thank you for reading,
Joelle
Joelle, thank you. I too have felt every single one of these things. Every. Single. One. I’m so angry, now at myself, that I had so much faith in people. How could anyone (me … and them?) be so stupid. I am broken.
I know the hope will return, but the m not there yet. I’m too devastated.
I wholeheartedly agree with everything you’ve said. A big part of me is heartbroken because I wanted to believe that this country is something it is currently not. However, I was on a post election organizing call last night and they reminded us that we have to stay hopeful and the next four years is going to be about organizing in our communities and coming together to resist. This was a major step back but all is not lost!